Page 6 of Gilded Princess

I wave a hand in the air to dismiss his words. “I’m sure she’s fine. She always gets cranky before she’s had enough caffeine.”

“C’mon, man. How long are you gonna do this?”

I bristle at his tone. “Do what?”

He sighs, the noise loud and full of disappointment. But he doesn’t need to sling that shit in my direction—I’m plenty frustrated with myself.

“You can’t keep her on ice forever. At some point, you’re going to have to let her go.”

Rage courses through me, swift and potent. The urge to cause destruction rides me hard, and the only reason I don’t act on it is because he’s my best friend.

“She’s not on ice. I have a few trusted people check-in on her every so often. She’s free to do whatever she wants—see whomever she wants—”

Dante’s sarcastic laugh interrupts me. “Do you hear yourself right now? Did you somehow forget about that guy in the spring you scared off?”

I scoff. “That guy was an asshole. And his dad is a dirty judge—and not one we can benefit from.”

“Yeah, alright, I’ll give you that one. But what about all the other guys since you two split?” When I don’t answer, he sighs. “Listen, man. I get it. At first, you had to have eyes on her for her safety because you were climbing the ranks, but it’s been years. And if you’re not planning on locking her down, then I think you should cut her loose.”

My breath gets trapped in my lungs as I envision a life without her. Something a lot like agony protests the very idea.

I can’t let her go. But I can’t keep her either.

I’m the worst kind of bastard for it, but even knowing that doesn’t mean that I’ll change. I don’t bend for anyone. Not anymore.

I can’t bring myself to condemn her to this life, but if I don’t choose a fucking wife soon, I’ll never be boss. Not of my family and not of the five families.

It’s a bullshit archaic rule that I wish I could demolish, but even when I’m boss, I’m not sure I could immediately kill it. There are too many old school guys in the five families that still cling to it.

I’m acting as underboss for Dad, but it’s not in an official capacity until I get married. For a bunch of sexist motherfuckers, they love to make sure guys are locked down first before they promote them up. I’d like to say it had something to do with holding onto your humanity, but it couldn’t be further from the truth.

They like guys to have wives for leverage. Skim off the top? We’ll ostracize your wife from the families for a while.

Fuck up a run? We’ll take your cut and fuck up your house, terrorize your wife and kids a little.

Kill the wrong guy? We’ll pass around your wife as payback.

So, no, I’m not fucking eager to bring a woman—any woman—into this life until I’ve cleaned house a little.

The problem is that the only woman I ever wanted to call my wife fucking hates me and has for the last two years.

Indecision plagues me for a moment.

Fuck it. I’ll figure it out as I go. I always do.

I stand up and adjust the sleeves underneath my black Tom Ford suit. “We’re going. I don’t put it past any of those slimy fuckers to snatch her up in some ill-fated attempt at blackmail.”

I don’t mention that I know it would work too, and Dante’s kind enough not to call me out. I don’t know how many people would still connect her to me, but if they did their homework like I always do, it’s easy enough to find.

“And our sleeper? Should we tell him?”

“Nah. We’ll keep our distance from him too, so he can work his magic. He’ll be home soon enough. I want him to have his freedom just a little longer.”

The words taste like ash on my tongue. There’s nothing free about what he’s doing. And it’s exactly the reminder I need of our stakes—and they’re fucking high.

The last thing I need is the complication of a woman. They fulfill a need, but I can’t offer them more than a night. Not while I’m in the middle of a coup—one that’s taking a surprising left turn.

“How was the meeting? They pulling the marriage angle again?”

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